Dead Is Just a Rumor (8 page)

CHAPTER TWELVE

My dad drove me
to my cooking lesson with Circe that Saturday. We'd bought another car when Dad came home, and Mom had optimistically hoped that he'd jump right back into academia. That hadn't happened. He still hadn't heard back from the interview he had a couple of weeks before, and he didn't seem to have any other options on the horizon. Meanwhile, the car gathered dust, for the most part, but we weren't allowed to take it, because Mom wanted to have it available for Dad to use.

"You've been looking a little tired lately," he remarked on the drive over to Wilder's.

"Being a chef isn't as easy as I thought it would be," I admitted.

"Are you rethinking a culinary career?" he asked.

"No," I said. "I really like it. It's just working at Slim's, cooking lessons, school..." I didn't mention my boyfriend, since we were still at odds over my relationship with Ryan.

"Daisy, can I ask you a question?"

Uh-oh,
I thought.
Here it comes.

"Why did you give up gymnastics? You were quite serious about it."

Dad was bringing up a sore subject.

"I didn't give up gymnastics, Dad. It gave me up."

"What do you mean?"

"Haven't you noticed? I grew about eight inches since you were gone. I'm too tall for gymnastics now."

Dad was a little shaky behind the wheel, but he delivered me in one piece and said, "Call me when you're finished tonight and I'll come by and pick you up."

"Will do," I said. "I shouldn't be too late."

Circe looked like a wreck when I got there. There was flour in her hair and her normally immaculate coif was in disarray.

"Daisy, get your apron on and get the vegetables chopped."

Hello to you,
I thought. I threw on an apron and washed my hands and then got started on an enormous pile of veggies. I have to admit I cheated a little when no one was looking. A lot of people knew of my psychic abilities, but I didn't want anyone to think I was showing off.

The kitchen reeked of tension and sweat. "What's going on?" I asked Sabrina, one of the wait staff.

"We're double-booked and the sous-chef didn't show up for work tonight," she replied. "Gotta go. I'm slammed out there."

It wasn't just Circe who was suffering. The entire staff of Wilder's, with the possible exception of Bianca, was scared of Circe when she was in a
good
mood. She was terrifying when she was in a bad mood. The dishwasher dropped a plate and the whole place sucked in its collective breath when Circe's head whipped around, quick as a snake.

Her eyes gleamed green fire, a sure sign that an explosion was imminent. Instead, she only barked, "I need more pork chops!"

Balthazar let out a tiny whimper when he heard that.

I tore lettuce by hand for salads (chopping it bruised the lettuce) and whipped up gallons of Circe's secret recipe salad dressing. "The salad dressing is done," I said.

"Not quite," she said, then sniffed. She rummaged in her pocketed apron and pulled out what looked like a small bag of herbs and sprinkled it into the dressing. "Now it's a Circe Silvertongue creation," she said.

For the next two hours, I sautéed, chopped, stirred, and sweated. I kept hoping the sous-chef would show up, but there was no sign of him. Several times, Balthazar trotted up and squealed. It sounded like he was trying to tell me something, but when he saw Circe glaring at him, he retreated to his little bed outside her office.

I saw Circe get something from her office and throw it into a pot. She glanced around and I quickly averted my eyes. When I looked up again, all I saw was Circe's eyes glow green and then a little puff of smoke rose from the pot. It didn't
look
like she was working on a new recipe. In fact, it looked decidedly suspicious, but I got too busy for any more snooping.

I was relieved when I had a chance to take a bathroom break. When I came out of the bathroom, Balthazar was waiting for me in the hallway. He snorted, then started trotting to the side door that led to the garden. I could tell he wanted me to follow him.

I looked back at the kitchen nervously, but Circe was so busy, she didn't even seem to realize I was gone. I decided a little break wouldn't hurt. Besides, I was supposed to be getting cooking lessons, not indentured servitude.

It was chilly in the garden. I walked quickly, following Balthazar's curly little tail in the dark. My heart started pounding harder when he entered the maze.

"No!" I yelped, and stopped in my tracks.

The pig turned around and squealed and stamped. I really did not want to go into the maze, but I had a feeling there was something in there I needed to see. I took a breath and went after Balthazar.

The pig turned a few corners, then stopped, nosing at something under the hedge. I reached down and felt something cold and metallic. It was a cooking pot. I picked it up and looked inside, to see the charred remains of something. I touched a hard red substance crusted to the inside of the pot.

"Wax," I whispered. Balthazar was snorting like crazy next to me. Suddenly I realized that this must be a blackmail letter. Probably one that was sent to Circe. Too bad there wasn't much of it left. I picked up a charred piece of paper still partially intact. I could read the words
sorcery
and
missing,
but I had no idea what those words meant or why Circe had torched the letter. Balthazar looked up at me with pleading eyes. "I'm sorry," I said, "But there's not much here to read."

The two of us headed back to the restaurant and slipped surreptitiously inside. The rest of the evening was a blur, but eventually the rush died down. During cleanup, Bianca walked into the kitchen. "Daisy, your boyfriend is here," she said. "He's waiting on the terrace for you."

Circe snorted. "Men can't be trusted, you know. Balthazar is the only one I can rely on. He'll never leave me." She reached down to pet Balthazar, but he shied away.

Ryan was here? My dad was supposed to pick me up. I tore off my apron and went to find him.

"I'm surprised to see you here," I said. "Pleasantly surprised, of course."

He made an effort to smile. "Work and school are the only places I can see you these days," he said. "And I need to talk to you about something."

"I'll get my stuff."

As soon as we got in the car, I was about to blurt out what I had learned about Circe, but he handed me a note. I recognized that heavy white paper and red wax seal right away. "You're being blackmailed, too?"

Ryan nodded. "My dad is going to go ballistic when he sees this."

"So you haven't told him anything?"

He shook his head. "Not yet. I wanted to talk to you first. I didn't want to worry him. He's been ... stressed lately."

"The council already knows about the blackmailer," I reminded him. "I think we should take this to them. They have to know."

"I know," he said. "But I don't want Dad to know
I
got a blackmail note."

Why would Ryan want to keep something like that from his dad? It didn't make any sense.

"But—"I said.

"I'll tell him when I'm ready, Daisy. Now, are you going to help me or not?"

I knew he was worried, but I wasn't going to let him growl at me just because he'd been the victim of a little blackmail.

"
Of course
I'll help you," I said. "But you don't need to snap at me just because I told you what I think, which is that you're making a mistake."

His face closed and I decided I better not push the issue.

There was an awkward silence. Then we both said, "I'm sorry."

"I didn't mean to growl," he said.

"And I didn't mean to lecture," I said. "Now tell me exactly where you were when you found the note."

"It was in my gym bag," Ryan said.

"Like Wolfie's," I said. "Maybe it's someone who goes to school here."

"Not necessarily," Ryan disagreed with me. "It could be a teacher, or a visitor, or even someone who isn't so easily seen."

"You can't think Slim would do something like this!" The thought that my boss could be involved just wasn't possible. He was one of the good guys. Plus, he got a letter, too.

"No," Ryan said. "Not Slim. But he's not the only..."

"Invisible man," I finished for him. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure he is, at least in Nightshade."

"I mean, he's not the only one we can't see."

"Right," I said. "There are ghosts and maybe vampires, if it's true they can turn into some sort of fog. And shifters."

"It could be a regular old sneaky human," Ryan said.

"Like who?"
Sneaky
reminded me of Ms. Tray, but I couldn't really picture her tiptoeing into the boys' locker room.

"One of the coaches," he suggested. "Or someone on the football team."

"I don't think so," I said. "I saw the same kind of letter at Circe's."

"Why didn't you say so before now?" Ryan cried.

"I was going to," I said. "But then you told me your news." I paused. "The weird thing is, Circe burned her letter. I wonder why she didn't turn it over to the council. They are investigating this, after all."

"I think we should talk to Mr. Bone," Ryan said.

We headed to the funeral home with the hope of catching him there.

Normally, Mr. Bone wore loud Hawaiian shirts and shorts. He loved to golf and always had a smile on his face.

We caught up with him in his office. He wore a formal black suit and tie. There was no sign of his normally cheerful demeanor.

"Is this a bad time?" I asked him. "We wanted to talk to you, if you have a minute."

Mr. Bone looked at his watch. "Unfortunately, I only have a few minutes. There was a death in San Carlos and we are handling the arrangements. One of their best high school football players died suddenly."

Ryan shook his head sadly. "I heard about that," he said. "That's why they called off the game a couple weeks back."

"If he died weeks ago, why is he just being buried now?" I asked.

"They did an autopsy first," Mr. Bone explained. I was curious to hear more details, but I knew Mr. Bone wouldn't gossip about his work.

We told him about Ryan's letter. I knew I should report what I saw at Wilder's, too. I hesitated because I didn't want to get on Circe's bad side, but I did want the blackmailer stopped.

I gulped and then blurted out, "I think I saw a note in Circe Silvertongue's office at Wilder's. And then tonight I found the burnt remains of it in the garden maze."

Mr. Bone was smiling a
Don't you worry
smile, which made me worry.

"We'll look into the Circe situation," he said. Then, probably sensing my anxiety, he added, "We'll keep your name out of it."

That was going to be very hard to do, I was sure of it.

I had wondered why Circe would want to hide being blackmailed, but then a different angle occurred to me. Maybe those letters were written
by
Circe, not
to
her. "Do you think Circe could be the blackmailer?" I asked.

"What would make you think that?" Mr. Bone asked.

"She's a highly successful chef, with her own cookbooks, television show, everything," Ryan pointed out. "Why would she need the money?"

"Money?" I said. "Did your letter ask you for money?"

"Not yet," Ryan said. "But what else could the blackmailer want?"

"It's just that she's..." I paused, uncertain about how to continue.

"Difficult? Demanding?" Mr. Bone supplied. "Yes, but she is not a blackmailer."

I hated to admit it, but I was disappointed. Circe was my only suspect and I didn't have any other leads. "What makes you so sure?"

"Circe has ... too much at stake herself," Mr. Bone explained, then quickly changed the subject by asking Ryan to show him the note he'd received.

Ryan held out the note with its hateful red seal. I would be happy if I never saw that particular red seal again.

Mr. Bone put on his reading glasses. "The handwriting is the same as the other notes," he observed.

Ryan leaned closer. "It's fancy. It looks kind of..." He hesitated, then threw me a look.

"Girly?" I asked. "It's okay. I noticed it, too." The calligraphy was full of flourishes. Despite its elegant look, the message was altogether menacing.

There was a tiny triple heart in the pattern of the seal. Where had I seen that particular pattern before? It bothered me the rest of the night, but I couldn't remember.

"If I hear anything else, I'll be in touch," Mr. Bone said. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some work to do."

It must be hard to tend to the dead, I thought. Mr. Bone always seemed so happy, but he was noticeably downcast. I couldn't blame him.

Ryan and I got back in the car. "I better get home," I said regretfully.

"Daisy, I haven't been alone with you in a week," Ryan said. "I'm dying here. And it's going to be a full moon soon."

Which meant my boyfriend would be howling at the moon for a few days.

"I miss you, too," I said softly.

"Why are your parents being so strict?" Ryan asked. "It's your senior year."

"It's just my dad. He doesn't want me seeing you for a while."

"Maybe we ought to—"

I kissed the words from his lips. "Maybe we ought to nothing," I said, after a long minute. Then I kissed him again, just to show him exactly how much I'd missed him. He had evidently been missing me, as well, because he kissed me deeply. Somehow I ended up horizontal across the front seat.

The car radio played songs about being in love, and I forgot about everything, including the time. The world receded until all I could think about was Ryan, the touch of his lips, the feel of his skin against mine.

Of course, that's what made it completely embarrassing when a squad car pulled up. And not just any police officer got out. No, it had to be the chief of police.

"Ryan, it's your dad," I whispered, frantically pushing him away.

"Quit joking," he said.

"I'm
not!
" Ryan heard the panic in my voice and sat up quickly.